The Last Part of the Prince's Tale
by austenfan1990
Summary: Severus Snape is now dead and finds himself in a strange abyss where blinding whiteness prevails. Tormented by his failure to protect Harry even in death, Dumbledore attempts once more to bring closure to Snape's life. NOT slash.


_The Last Part of the Prince's Tale_

_A/N: Just a little something I wrote in the light of the recent release of the film, _Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince_ which reminded me of the deep admiration I felt for Snape's sacrifice after reading _Deathly Hallows_. I wanted to bring a sense of closure to Snape's rather painful and unfortunate life but not in the form of an emotional reunion with Lily as has been done many times before in many fanfics. I felt that it could only be Dumbledore who had been almost a mentor to Snape for the last years of his life who could bring about this closure and finally bring peace to Snape's tormented mind. This is a small tribute to both these troubled characters._

_PS This is sort of a sequel to my other Snape story, _Final Tribute_, or rather the POV of Snape in the light of the events that happened in that fanfic. Although not necessary, some parts of this story will make more sense after reading that one.  
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Severus Snape had the distinct feeling of feeling disembodied. Minutes ago, pain had stabbed agonisingly in his neck while his hand clutched the gaping wound beneath it, the blood – his blood – slipping warm and crimson through his fingers. Nothing else registered at the time other than the fact that he was dying, the world was getting darker by the second, that he would die alone in this godforsaken shack and that Potter would never know the fate that awaited him. Bitterness had nearly reared its ugly head as the thoughts whizzed by in his mind but just at that moment, blurry figures had entered his shrinking line of vision. The spectacles and the green eyes of the stranger as he crouched before him had been enough to recognise him almost instantaneously.

Harry Potter.

Snape never thought he would be almost glad to see the boy as he did then. With the little strength he had left to him, he had seized the front of Harry's robes, struggling to speak. Frustration filled his entire being when nothing but a raspy, croaking noise issued forth from his lips. In response, the green eyes looked into his face concernedly then immediately followed the movements of something else that trickled out of him. His clouding mind instinctively told him that it was probably his memories which were the causing the boy some surprise. There had been tales of memories being emitted from one's body when one had something significant to communicate in the last moments of one's life but Snape had never believed it till now. With great difficulty, he said: 'Take it...take it...'

Harry nodded, complying quietly as Hermione Granger conjured up a flask with which to collect them. The concentration in Harry's face was obvious and Snape felt for a second that perhaps he had been unwise in underestimating the strength and character of the boy. But the pain was growing stronger, the world darker and he had no more power to think. His grip on Harry's robes slackened and he knew that the end had come.

'Look...at...me...'

The words left his mouth before he knew what he was saying; his near-dead mind struggling in some vain hope to take away the pain by looking in those eyes he loved so well...

And it had worked...the pain had disappeared the moment the green met the black. Yet a few seconds later, he had arrived here in this strange, other worldly place. He opened his eyes and could see nothing but a continual abyss of blinding whiteness. A gush of invisible wind which made him shiver as it touched his bare skin announced that he was naked. Surprised and begging desperately for something to wear, his clothes appeared instantly beside him and he quickly dressed. Feeling much more at ease, he took an experimental step forwards. Nothing happened. All sense of direction gone and shrugging indifferently, he merely continued walking into the abyss. Gradually, the whiteness seemed to form into blurry shapes and with each passing step, the scenery around him became sharper, clearer and colour seemed to inject itself into the whiteness. Snape had absolutely no idea what was happening – knowing only that if he continued walking, he could at least find some conclusion as to where he was.

'Severus.'

He halted mid-stride and spun around. The unmistakable figure of Albus Dumbledore was making his way towards him, a smile of deep respect on his lips.

'Dumbledore,' he said blankly. It was quite a shock to see the headmaster looking so well when the image of an embattled and sickly Dumbledore had seared itself into Snape's mind during the previous year. Unable to think of anything to say, he merely waited until Dumbledore reached him, waiting for him to speak.

Instead of talking to him as he stepped in front of Snape, Dumbledore merely observed the scene before him. 'Does this place seem familiar to you, Severus?' he asked, gesturing to a point somewhere behind Snape. Following Dumbledore's gaze, Snape turned around, his eyes widening as he instantly recognised where they currently were standing.

The playground near Spinner's End in which he had met Lily Evans had changed little since he last dared to lay his eyes on it. The clumps of bushes behind which he had hid himself as he shyly watched Lily swing higher and higher into the air remained the same. Even the fallen flower and its petals which Lily had enchanted still lay abandoned near the swings; it was almost as if she had just left.

'What is this place, Dumbledore?' he asked when his racing heart had slowed a little.

'This place, Severus? By that, I can be quite certain that you do not mean the playground, do you? Of course, you don't,' he smiled wryly as he met Snape's glare of impatience. 'You know it very well already. It's very difficult to say exactly as it changes according to the personality and life of the person who has just arrived here. Each experience or place is quite unique to each individual...in your case; they've decided to take the form of the playground you treasured so well in your memories. Quite sentimental, this place, I must say.' Dumbledore's voice was pensive, as it had been so often in life.

'You still haven't answered my question.'

'No? Ah yes, I haven't.' Dumbledore walked over to the swings, his eyes bright with amusement and sat down on one of them. 'Well, Severus...you were always a clever man. Where do you think we are?' he asked seriously with no hint of sarcasm.

Snape sighed. Even in death, the headmaster could be exasperating when the mood took him. With no other alternative before him, he took the bait. 'I would guess that we're in some sort of heavenly limbo...seeing that both of us are quite obviously bereft of human life.'

'Harsh words,' Dumbledore chuckled. 'But yes, we are most certainly dead. Figuratively speaking.'

Snape could not help feeling a dull thud of irritation beat through him at that; Dumbledore's bubbling good humour was troubling him. Snape felt that he quite deserved the opposite at the moment; he was even welcoming it. He had nothing to be worthy of respect. The confirmation that he was truly dead came as a blow to him since it meant that he had utterly failed in saving Potter and that the boy would meet his death, not knowing why he had been spared from death as a child and only to be killed sixteen years later. And for what? For nothing at all.

Snape spoke indignantly, clenching his jaw. 'Headmaster, you are too kind with me. You know as well as I that I have nothing to deserve your good humour when it is obvious that I have failed the boy.'

Dumbledore's blue eyes glinted. 'Failed, Severus? My good man, what are you talking about?'

'I beg you not to play with me. I know full well that the Dark Lord will soon triumph over the wizarding world and that Potter's soul will soon be joining us here for good despite all that we've done for him.'

'I can agree that Harry will one day find himself staying here for good but that will not be for a very long time, Severus. A _very_ long time. For I foresee the boy will live a long and fruitful life.' Dumbledore smiled yet again. 'As for Voldemort's triumph, I will say with great certainty that you're terribly far from the truth.'

Snape stared at him incredulously. 'Potter will die, Dumbledore. You told me yourself! Or have you already forgotten the conversation we had before?'

'Calm yourself...I know what I said, Severus. Harry has, in fact, already died.'

'Already died?' The shock in his voice cut through the air like a knife.

'Yes,' replied Dumbledore lightly as if the knowledge of that was nothing too worrisome. His attention was now caught by a passing butterfly as it traversed a nearby tree. Meanwhile, Snape was beginning to think that death had somehow unhinged the former headmaster's mind. If Potter was dead, why on earth would he be so...cheerful?

'You are about to ask me why I seem so delighted,' Dumbledore said distractedly as he saw Snape's mouth open in angry protest out of the corner of his eye. He finally passed his full attention to the fuming man before him.

'Harry has died...but he returned to life not too long ago.' He reached for his pocket watch, examining the numerous hands. 'To be precise, just an hour ago. You see, I used you yet again, Severus...I apologise. When we had that conversation in my office that evening, I, once again, did not tell you everything...if you remember, I informed you that I didn't wish to keep all of my secrets in the same basket. Voldemort is infamous for sometimes outwitting even the best of you and had you known the entire picture and he gained knowledge of it, Voldemort would have certainly made sure that Harry would never have the opportunity of being resurrected ever again.'

Snape, despite feeling highly strung at being used yet again, chose to get to the point instead. His mind now was insatiable, greedy for answers. 'You talk of resurrection...how is that even possible? Potter is not in possession of any Horcruxes...'

'He doesn't need one. Lily's sacrifice has served him well...she has saved him twice so far in the face of Voldemort's wrath.' Dumbledore continued, ignoring Snape's obvious expression of discomfort. 'Voldemort failed to kill Harry when Lily sacrificed herself for him when he was a child and still, thirteen years later, he failed to recognise the everlasting power of that sacrifice. Taking the blood of Harry during the tournament and using it in his own resurrection is proof of that. As long as Harry's blood flows in his veins along with Lily's sacrifice, Harry would be able to return to the world of the living. He has done so and also brought about the defeat of Tom Riddle at last.'

It took a few long disbelieving moments for the last sentence to sink into Snape's mind.

'Voldemort dead?' he whispered. 'Can it be even possible?'

Receiving a simple nod as an answer, Snape sank onto the remaining swing, his black robes billowing gently in the wind that had returned. The former headmaster and potions master sat contemplatively, the former humming an absent-minded tune while the latter stared silently at the gravel beneath their feet, his expression one of complete disbelief.

Suspicion darting into his mind, he turned to Dumbledore demandingly. 'If Voldemort is indeed dead, why is it that one cannot see him here, Dumbledore?'

The blue eyes sparkled kindly. 'Severus, you are too distrustful at times. But I shall answer you this...Tom Riddle will never be seen here,' Dumbledore said with a tone of contented finality. 'A heavenly plane of existence will never await those who go to their deaths unwillingly. To be a man, Severus, is to acknowledge one's mortality and that makes all the difference.'

There was a brief pause. Snape half-expected a wave of satisfaction to wash over him at the news. Yet Snape felt anything but contented now. So he was truly was dead then. A stab of fear struck him. And the memories that he had given to Potter...how had those been received? How had the boy reacted? With loathing? Disgust? He cringed inwardly at the thought.

'I suppose Potter is gloating over my death this very moment,' muttered Snape grimly. 'Just like his father,' he sneered. Many would have relished the opportunity to see him lying in a pool of his own blood as he lay dying, the hated murderer of Dumbledore brought to justice at last...and perhaps the boy had been too frightened and taken aback by the grim suddenness of the moment to take the opportunity to spit on his corpse. What elation that boy would have felt upon his death! His eyes caught Dumbledore's and his train of thought was brought to an abrupt halt at the disapproving expression in those blue eyes.

'Severus, this ridiculous and illogical hatred for Harry should come to an end. It doesn't do credit to either of you nor does it give him justice. Have you remembered nothing? Don't you realise that he has seen all your memories?'

The confirmation of his fears brought the suppressed rage, guilt and doubt in his veins to surface in an explosive manner that even surprised himself.

'And what, Dumbledore? What did he think? Did he relish the fact that I was weak? That I was a coward, after all? Did he despise the feelings I had for his mother? The feelings of a cold-hearted, unfeeling, evil _bastard_ such as myself who he probably thinks has no right to even _tread _upon the ground she walked on?' Snape spat, his insecurity coming back to haunt him. Oh, he had been such a fool in divulging his memories to the boy...he could see Potter now, laughing over his foolishness as he stumbled carelessly about his life...the damned, unforgivable delirium of a dying man! He was on his feet now, his face flushed with mingled embarrassment and anger.

Dumbledore observed him quietly, merely allowing him to vent out his feelings and making no attempt to stop him. Embarrassment soon took rein over his seething rage and he lowered himself tiredly upon the ground, shaking his head – uncertain of what to do.

After a while, the older man spoke, sighing sadly. 'No, Severus. Harry does not think of you in any of those terms. Don't you realise that without your memories, he wouldn't have known how to face Voldemort the second time he tried to kill him in the forest? Your memories have made such a difference, Severus, despite the low degree of importance you seem to place on them.'

Snape said nothing. Dumbledore straightened. 'I see you don't believe me.'

'No,' Snape admitted lowly, not looking up.

There was another sigh. He heard Dumbledore stand, the swing upon which he sat creaking slightly as he did so. 'Very well. Then shake my hand,' he commanded simply.

Snape looked up quizzically at the wizened old face as it towered above him, wondering whether Dumbledore was playing with him yet again. But the utterly serious look in his eyes assured him that he was not and rising to his feet, Snape clasped Dumbledore's hand in a firm handshake only to have his mind bombarded by a series of experiences and visions that were not his own...

He was hovering over his body in the Shrieking Shack; a figure appeared by his former self – unmistakably Potter. He saw Harry wave his wand respectfully, the blood instantly vanished from the floor and seconds later, saw that the wound in his neck had been bandaged up. There was a roaring in his ears now, rendering him unable to hear the words which Harry uttered over his dead body but the serious and sincere expression in those green eyes were enough...then the image of a hand putting Lily's picture on his chest as the coffin lid magically slid into place...

A funeral now outside Hogwarts...undoubtedly his...with Harry acting as one of the pallbearers along with (and to his complete surprise) Ron and George Weasley and Draco Malfoy in the pouring rain...then they were in Dumbledore's office with Harry unveiling a portrait of him, the board of governors quietly giving their hard-won approval amidst the flashing bulbs of cameras...

White steam engulfed the next scene, a family of five was on Platform 9 ¾...a dark-haired boy with green eyes was imploring his father as the Hogwarts Express was on the verge of departure...a considerably older-looking Harry kneeled before his youngest son...and though the roaring in Snape's ears had not disappeared, he still caught the words from Harry's lips: 'Albus Severus, you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew.' No sooner had the words left his lips, Snape felt the world closing in on him and when he opened his eyes, he found himself back on the ground, the gravel digging painfully into his knees while Dumbledore had somehow returned to his seat on the swing and was currently watching him with an air of great interest.

'Well, Severus?' Dumbledore asked lightly a moment later.

Snape looked at him slowly, still seemingly reeling from the experience. 'Well, it seems Potter hasn't lost his maddening sense of sentimentality,' he replied tonelessly. However, Dumbledore's keen eyes did not miss the small momentary flicker of pride and contentment in Snape's black eyes and he smiled inwardly.

'Headmaster.'

'Yes?'

'Was that...all true?' Snape's expression was one of keen earnestness and Dumbledore's heart could not help but weep at the lifelong insecurity of the man.

'Entirely true, Severus. Or it will be, as far as I can see, I am sure of that.' The black eyes bored into the blue and a moment later, seemed satisfied.

'Thank you, Dumbledore.'

'Not at all, Severus. Not at all.'

The two men sat on the swings a while longer, the older of them patiently awaiting the arrival of the Marauders and Lily to greet his companion. By the soft murmurs and laughter coming from the trees on other side of the playground, it was probably them coming now. He shot a sideward glance to the man beside him but by the looks of the small smile on his lips, Severus Snape was obviously oblivious to what awaited him. For Snape was now at last at peace with himself, more contented than he had ever been and warmed by the thought that perhaps his life hadn't been a waste after all.


End file.
